Brad Vickers: The Real American Hero
by Zombiehugger
Summary: Did you ever wonder what Brad did during the mansion incident? Ever thought he was a Chicken Heart? Well find out the answers to those questions and more. See Brad as you've never seen him before. Chapter 2 is Up.
1. Chapter 1

_Brad Vickers: The Real American Hero_

_Disclaimer: I wish I owned Resident Evil, but sadly I don't. __ Maybe one day. Maybe one day._

A/N: Brad Vickers is An hiro.

Wind swept past the helicopter as Brad slowly pulled the helicopter into a steady climb. Their destination was a mansion in the outskirts of Raccoon City, just a few miles into the woods. Bravo team had gone ahead, but there hadn't been a reply from them for nearly twenty-four hours. It was up to the Alpha team to investigate this disappearance. Not, a day earlier it was Kevin Dooley who had flown a helicopter off of this helipad, but now it was Brad's turn and he was going to do it the best way he knew how.

The entire flight was going to take only twenty minutes, not long for a pilot of Brad's skill, but he concentrated as best he could despite the ease of this mission. While Chris, Jill, Barry, Wesker and the others were laughing and having a good time in the back, not worrying about the mission at all, Brad's eyes were fixed on the surrounding area, waiting for something to go wrong.

Luckily, they reached the landing zone without a hitch; Brad slowly descended and let off his passengers. Chris made some snide remark about not 'chickening' out, but Brad ignored him and sent them off with a wave of his hand. Now, completely free of passengers, Brad pulled up again. But something went terribly wrong. His tail was unstable and he couldn't right himself in while ascending. The entire panel lit up in front of him. The tail was dragging in the air, something was on the helicopter. He twisted and turned the helicopter to try and shake it loose, but nothing he did would work. The helicopter was going to crash.

_Damn it, I can't crash, not here, not on top of all of my teammates._ Brad ran through options in his mind, everything he could do to ensure the safety of his teammates. Without a second's hesitation he drove the helicopter further into the woods, barely hearing Chris screaming something to him. Trees whizzed by, they quickly got closer and soon high branches were smacking into the windshield of the helicopter. A particularly strong branch shattered the glass; Brad crossed his arms in front of his face, shielding his eyes. Loud sirens blared, smoke poured out of the control panel, lights flashed all over the helicopter.

He was going to die.

Brad unbuckled the cross safety harness that held him in the chair. In most helicopter or plane crashes, the pilot was the one to die because he or she just sat there. That wasn't going to be Brad. Brad struggled to get free of the seat, but the leaves of trees were slapping him in the face every second; he was pinned down. With a great burst of strength, Brad leaped from the seat and into the back of the helicopter. He was now only a few meters from the ever closely approaching ground. With the sides of the helicopter opened up, Brad was able to see that the branches of the trees were very dense, but spacious enough that he would be able to jump to one without impaling himself. He took the chance.

With a silent prayer, Brad jumped from the helicopter with all of his might and landed hard on a branch. The air was instantly driven out of his lungs. He took ragged gasps to try and regain his lost air, but nothing worked. With the lack of air, his world began to spin in a matter of seconds, a white light shone brightly in the air around him.

He was going to die.

Soon the world turned black, his grasp on the tree slackened and he felt free as he fell to the ground. Pain shot through him like electricity. With the new shock, Brad gasped in gulps of air. His ears popped and the sparkles of white lights, died down. Vision, once again returning to him, Brad sat up. He needed to find a way to contact his team, tell them he had gone down.

The crash site was only a few meters away, but it was a terrible sight. Brad painfully walked over to his downed helicopter and reached through the broken side window and took the radio. He pushed the talk button, but received nothing, not even static.

"Damn!" Brad cursed loudly. "Of all the damned luck," In frustration, Brad kicked the helicopter, emitting a loud, hollow thud. Immediately after, there was a rustling of trees near the tail of the helicopter.

_Damn it, I forgot about the thing that was on the tail._ Brad pulled out his pistol from the holster around his chest. Cautiously, Brad made his way around the ruins to the other side of the tail. The leaves still rustled. Slowly, Brad touched the leaves and started to separate them.

A loud _–roar_ came from behind, and a pit-bull jumped at him. Brad ducked down and rolled out of the way. The world seemed to slow down. To Brad, the dog hovered over his body for a time, he could look at all of the intricacies of the dog. The rotting flesh, the exposed muscle, bone fragments, even some squishy organs. If he was quick enough, he could even shoot the dog before it landed, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it wouldn't work. As soon as the dog landed, Brad had his pistol trained on the dog. The pit-bull snarled, taking the challenge.

It charged.

The dog ran full-force at Brad, ignoring everything else in the world except its next meal. It made a mistake. Brad fired two shots, blood sprayed out of the freshly made bullet holes just beneath the eye and snout. The body collapsed a few feet from Brad. Brad jumped to his feet and ran back to the helicopter.

He was able to salvage a few more clips for his pistol, but nothing else. Feeling vulnerable, Brad decided to find cover, but the only cover was a nearby building. It looked like it might be part of the mansion, but there was no way to tell from outside. Quickly and efficiently, Brad made his way to the building.

It looked like a garage, but that didn't matter right now. Brad opened the shutter and walked inside. It was completely empty, except for two doors, and a set of double doors off to his right. Brad walked up to the double doors and tried to open them.

"Damn, locked." Brad pulled futilely on the locked doors. On either side of the doors were imprints to place some sort of tablet or tablet shaped objects. Brad reminded himself that he needed to look for those objects, but the first thing he needed was a radio.

He quickly crossed the room and went through the left door. Inside was an extension of the garage, mainly just plant food and pesticides, lawn mowers, and other gardening tools; on the far right hand side of the room was a door, leading out into the garden. Brad walked back out and through the other door. He found himself in a long hallway, with windows lining either side. He deduced that it must've been some sort of observatory for the owners of the mansion.

The wooden floors creaked as he walked further into the hallway. There were no lights, so he was being led by whatever moonlight could pierce its way through the dense forest and shine through the windows. A sharp pain shot through his knee, followed closely by a loud _–thud_. He comforted his stinging knee and routed around the desk he just banged into. Brad began to move again, when he heard a heart stopping noise. The glass broke all around him, disorienting him rapidly. Brad spun in a circle, trying to black his face from the flying glass. Feathers fell all around him, the sounds of the caws echoed in his ears.

Without a moment's hesitation, he was bolting for the door. Crows dove down for him left and right, it took all he had just to dodge their attacks and run as fast as he could. He knew he wouldn't have time to open the door, so he increased his speed and slammed hard into the door. The wood splintered and cracked as the door flew open, with Brad rolling to the ground shortly after. His feet couldn't move fast enough, to do the things his instincts were telling him to do. Brad wasn't entirely sure when he had gotten the door shut, but he was glad it had happened. He leaned up against the door, panting and listening to the caws of the angry crows, as they hit the door repeatedly trying to get in.

With his exit now blocked off, there was only one way for Brad to go. Further into the Mansion.


	2. Chapter 2

With a hiss of static, his radio gave out and died. Brad cursed his luck, and stood up. The crows had stopped assaulting the door a few minutes ago, but Brad held the door closed to make sure. Through the door, Brad was amazed to see that the entire landscape seemed to change in a blink of an eye. From that simple observation hallway, to this now elegant and decorative lounge it was a stark contrast. The whole floor was covered with a nice, thick, white carpet that had a slight bounce to it. In the far corner, was a mini-bar with benches surrounding the bar. Couches, love seats, recliners were placed in well-thought locations, giving the air of a sophisticated meeting place where business was probably done over drinks.

Brad walked into the room, and looked around, touching the Upholstery. It wasn't long until he realized something was wrong. A soft crunching, and sickening squishing sound, permeated the silence. Brad stopped dead in his tracks. He pulled out his pistol and followed the sound. In the far corner was a slightly hidden hallway, leading to more doors. At the far end of the hallway was a thin curtain that looked to cover a more private area. Through the dim light, Brad could just make out the shape of what looked like a man doubled over.

"Are…..are you okay?" Brad's voice was shaky and nervous. "Do you need help?"

The man sat up on his knees, but didn't move after. Brad didn't want to move, but he had to find out if this man was okay, it was his duty as a police officer after all. Putting one foot slowly in front of the other, Brad moved with the trained efficiency of a S.T.A.R.S. member. The pistol was ready in the air, in case he needed to use it.

He was at the curtain sooner than he had expected, and found himself with his hand touching the silky smooth material. Instantly, he lost his nerve and wanted to turn back, but the man had already noticed him. His head rolled slowly to the side, looking at Brad. Brad pulled the curtain open the remaining distance.

"Oh, my God." Brad gasped as he looked at the man. The man was sitting on only one leg, because the other had been torn off and thrown next to the far wall. One of his eyes, hung out of its sockets, dangling loosely by a single sinewy strand. Blood, oozed out of holes and gashes all over his body, as pus bubbled out of a large gash along his forehead that exposed a portion of his cracked skull. Covering is face, was bits of organic material that looked like human flesh mixed with dried blood. The shirt he was wearing was tattered, and almost nonexistent, exposing most of the man's body.

As he started to get up, Brad backed away slowly, still not entirely sure what he was seeing, or if he somehow got knocked unconscious and was dreaming all of this. The man started to walk, but fell on the ground, when he tried to put pressure on the leg that was torn off. He let out a small cry of pain, and then started to crawl towards Brad.

Finally remembering the pistol in his hand, Brad aimed it at the man, but hesitated. What is this was some deranged lunatic that needed medical assistance?

"Sir, I must ask you to cease and desist. I'm asking you to stop, or I will have to shoot you." The man uninhibited by Brad's threat continued to crawl. "Last warning sir."

The man was now only a few feet away from Brad, not showing any signs of stopping. Brad sighed, and squeezed the trigger twice, putting two bullets into the man's back. In one final attempt the man swiped at Brad, but missed and collapsed into a heap on the floor. Brad walked behind the man and put two fingers to his carotid artery.

No pulse.

Brad had killed the man, it hit him hard that he had to take a life, but he reminded himself that it was what needed to be done. Brad had had no choice in the matter if he hadn't killed the man, then Brad might have been seriously injured, or worse. He'd had training to deal with this, but when the real thing happens no amount of training or psyche evaluations could prepare you for what it's really like. He was just going to have to-

He felt a hand on his leg.

"Oh, SHIT!" Brad screamed as he instinctively shot the rest of the clip into the body on the floor. The hand didn't let go. Brad pulled his leg away from the body, which was still crawling towards him. "I freaking KILLED you."

Brad backed away until he hit the wall opposite the body. With nothing left to do, Brad started to say his last prayers. The, supposed to be dead, body crawled, slowly, towards him. Not knowing what to do, Brad looked at his pistol, ejected the empty magazine and threw it at the creature. It bounced off of its head, hitting the wall. He knew it wouldn't work but he had to try something, he wasn't going without a fight.

The creature was only a few feet away from him when it happened. The chandelier plummeted from the ceiling, falling in the creature. With a monumentally large splash of blood, the creature collapsed once more.

"Well, _that_ was lucky." Brad walked over to the empty magazine and put it into one of the pouches on his vest. At the end of the hall, where the curtain was, there was a door that led further into the mansion. Since he had no more ammunition for his pistol, Brad holstered the pistol, and slid his knife out of the sheath.

Slowly, he pushed open the door with the knife held high. The door creaked open and revealed a small reading room that housed a multitude of books that lined the walls in ornate book cases. Brad ran his hand along the spines of one row of books. On a little reading table was an opened book. It was opened to the fifth page of some book. At first glance it looked blank, but Brad flipped through some of the later pages and found some writing.

_May 18,_

_Jack is at it again, he's pestering those damned dogs. I hope he knows if anyone else finds out about this it's going to be his ass and not mine that gets fired. Oh, if the Chief finds out that he's been messing with the dogs it'll be a roast. I think I'd pay to see that._

Brad flipped through some more of the pages.

_May 20,_

_Well, that does it. I was playing some poker with Bill, Jack and Greg; and I find out that Greg, the bastard he is, was cheating the entire game! Well, needless to say we gave him one good. It's not like it was a game for fun either__, so instead we made HIM clean out the cages for a week._

_May 22,_

_Eh, this day wasn't so great. I woke up late today; I think I'm beginning to feel a bit under the weather.__ Since I was late, of course the Chief has to give me a ration, but it wasn't so bad because seems like everyone is starting to feel a little sick._

_May 24,_

_Couldn't eat. Threw up. Bad stomach pain._

The next few pages were blank, but there was one more page with writing on it, but it looked like a bunch of scribbles that a five-year-old would draw. Brad put the book back down and looked around some more. There didn't seem to be any way to get inor out besides the door he came in.

Suddenly, there was a small banging, almost a knock, that Brad could faintly hear. He followed the sound and came next to one of the book cases. He put his ear up next to the books and could almost make out the sounds of muffled voices. It sounded like two, no, three people. All of a sudden, there was a muffled gunshot.

One of the voices said something, and was followed by another. There were footsteps, then a door closing. There was silence now. Brad waited for someone else to speak, or another noise to sound; but there was nothing. Brad tried to push the bookcase aside, but it wouldn't budge. It was too heavy for him. Again, Brad heard a noise; this time it made his heart stop. A woman's scream came from just beyond the bookcase. With renewed resolve, Brad tore at the books on the bookcase. Throwing them down, to try and get to the wall beyond. With the bookcase now lighter, Brad tried again to push at the case. It moved slowly, groaning along the floor as it went.

Behind the bookcase, was a ventilation shaft that almost instantaneously broke off into three separate paths; left, right, and straight. Brad sighed with the realization that the scream could have come from any of these three paths. He decided to just choose one of the paths and hope it went to where the scream happened.

Brad banged around the vent as he crawled through and went down the left path. He pulled out a flashlight and held it down the vent. Crawling as fast as he possibly could, while still being safe, Brad came to the first opening. Inside was a very tiny laboratory, which was almost the size of a bathroom. He could make out various chemicals and a few sinks. Moving on, Brad twisted and turned with the vent as he proceeded.

As he made his way through the maze of turns, he frequently had to turn back because he came to an impasse. After what seemed like an hour, Brad found a second opening that revealed what looked like a sort of entrance hall, with two floors. The stairs were right below Brad, and he could see that more openings opened up into this room.

He didn't want to chance leaning out into the room, but he needed to know where this vent led. Without much of a choice, Brad sighed and continued forward. He passed by all of the openings and found himself in a dining room. From what he could see, there was a blood stain on the far side of the room, but nothing else really wrong otherwise.

Even though, Brad wanted to get out and look around, he was too high up. He wandered through the vent some more, and eventually came back to the reading room, coming through the straight path.

_Well that was a whole lot of nothing._ Brad thought to himself as he lowered himself onto the floor. He stretched for a few minutes, before crawling back into the vent and taking the right path.


End file.
